Keep Fighting

This morning our family woke to one of those magical breathtaking snows--the kind where the trees and homes have been painted a pure white with a serene, peaceful glow. 

 

It is winter days like today that make me want to light Yankee candles and bake cookies and have soup simmering on the stove while the kids play board games and we watch the flakes continue to fall heavy around our safe hideaway. 

 

 



About mid morning Levi made his way into the kitchen where I was cooking.  With music playing in the background I knelt down to him, stretched out my arms and asked, "Wanna dance?"  He leaned into me with his chubby arms up.  I enveloped him in a big bear hug as he lay his head on my shoulder and we danced for what felt like hours. 

And just like the snow we woke up to early this morning, our dance felt absolutely magical. 

Do you have those moments momma?  Those moments where you wish you could just stop time with your littles and soak them up forever?  This was one of those moments for me.

 

 

As I held my sweet boy tightly and we sang together all of the "ho heys" by the Lumineers, I couldn't help but think about how I almost never got this moment-- how fear once nearly kept me from experiencing this moment and thousands of others just like it. 

I think of the story in John 10 where Jesus speaks the words, "The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full."  The weight of these words were so heavy on my heart today. 

You see, if you know my story then you know that for 18 months after Mackenzie was born, I struggled with such severe depression that I just knew I was done having babies.  Or at least the enemy had convinced me I was done.  He had me convinced that there was no joy in being a momma.  I was recounting to a friend recently that there was a time when I legitimately felt sorry for mommas who had more than one child.  I could not fathom the idea of having to be a mother of more than one and those who had to do it-- I frequently had thoughts of "Man, so glad I'm not her."

And then there were the days after we miscarried. When I hung on to grief and fear as if they were knitted together a heavy cloak on my shoulders.  I was so broken by our loss that I convinced myself I was alone in my pain.  That no one else could possibly understand what I was going through. I was fearful. So incredibly fearful to keep moving forward with this dream of expanding our family. 

You see, the enemy came to steal, to kill and to destroy. 

He came to steal my joy.  The joy I should have had as a new momma.  The joy I should have had at the thought of adding to our family.  He killed.  Quite literally.  I know many would argue against this idea-- that miscarriage is a part of life and that it's normal. 

I would argue that miscarriage was never God's intent, that life has always been at the heart of who God is. And Jesus so boldly proclaimed this when he said, "I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full."

I have no idea where you are on your momma journey. 

Maybe you are just getting started.  Maybe you held that precious ultrasound photo this morning and for the first time your heart leapt with joy at the thought of holding your sweet baby in 9 months. 

Maybe you're that momma who is struggling with infertility.  The momma who knows more loss than she should ever have to.  Maybe you've been praying and pleading with God for years to add to your family.

Or perhaps you're the momma who is pregnant but is struggling to find that joy that everyone seems to think you should be experiencing. 

Or if you are like I was-- you're the momma who has already held the baby but just can't find the joy that everyone said there would be upon his or her arrival. I get it, I've been there.

Maybe you became a momma by way of fostering or adoption and you are aching for your sweet baby to experience and embrace the love you promised them the moment you first saw their sweet face in that picture. 

Maybe you are the exhausted momma of 3 under five and are just praying and counting down the minutes on that little kitchen clock until nap time.

Maybe you're the single momma going it alone and just trying to hold on for one more day.

Whatever your road to motherhood, whatever your journey has been-- whatever discouragement you're experiencing, whatever depression you are in the trenches of.  Fight for your joy. 

Fight for those dancing in the kitchen moments.  Fight for those future moments that the enemy wants so desperately to keep from you.  Take that promise that Jesus made to you and hold on to it tightly and claim it as your own. 

It may not come right now.  It may take years of fighting and praying and hoping.  Satan wants you to stop dreaming.  He wants your fear and your discouragement to stop you dead in you tracks and he wants to keep you from moving forward in your vision for your family and in the hope that Jesus promises you. 

Keep fighting.  Because the enemy does not win and he does not get the glory.

This morning I danced with my little boy in our kitchen and we smooched and snuggled and watched the snow fall outside of our window.  This was a dream I had deep in my heart for years but I nearly let this dream pass me by.

And today I thought about how mad this probably makes Satan.  To see me happy, to see me thriving, to see me loving on this amazing little boy that he almost kept from me. 

God gets the glory here.  Satan doesn't win. 

And he doesn't win in your momma story either.  Keep pressing on.  Keep hoping and keep fighting.